The Riddle Between Us

Elena watched Daniel across the dinner table, his woolen hat pulled low despite the warmth of their apartment. The spinach she'd sautéed with garlic lay untouched on his plate, wilting like the conversation between them.

"The cable guy's coming tomorrow," she said, not meeting his eyes. "To fix the internet."

"We don't need the internet to talk, El."

The words hung there, heavy and uninvited. She remembered when they'd first moved in together, how they'd spent three days without television or WiFi, just making love on the floor and talking about everything and nothing. Now they sat in silence most evenings, each absorbed in their respective screens, their connection as thin as the coaxial cable that dangled disconnected from the wall.

"You think that's what this is about?" Elena stood, beginning to clear plates. "The cable?"

Daniel finally removed his hat, revealing hair he hadn't bothered to style in weeks. "I don't know what this is about anymore. That's the problem."

She'd brought home a small sphinx statue from Egypt last year—a gift from her travels before they met. It sat on the windowsill, its enigmatic smile mocking them with its ancient riddle: what creature walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in evening? She'd thought it was about the stages of life. Now she wondered if it was about relationships instead.

"I'm not a riddle you need to solve," she said softly.

"Aren't you?" His voice cracked. "I feel like I've been trying to understand you for months, and you keep changing the answer."

The spinach on her own plate had gone cold. She thought about all the meals they'd eaten in silence, all the conversations they'd avoided, all the nights they'd turned away from each other in bed. The cable wasn't the problem. The hat wasn't the problem. None of it was.

"Maybe there is no answer," she said. "Maybe that's the riddle."

Daniel looked at her then, really looked at her, and she saw the fear in his eyes—the same fear she felt every morning when she woke up and remembered: this is it. This is the life we've chosen. The sphinx smiled on, inscrutable and eternal, as they sat there in the quiet of their apartment, finally beginning to tell the truth.